


"Fuck."

by Banna_Banana



Category: DCU
Genre: JayTim Week 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banna_Banana/pseuds/Banna_Banana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 1 of JayTim week 2016: Tattoos<br/>Just another soulmate AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Fuck."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this isn't my best work ever, but I'm tired as hell and just wanted to finish and post this before the day was up.

Jason burns it off when he comes back, well, he tries to. He holds a lighter to the tattoo, to the yellow ‘R’ surrounded by black, but nothing happens. It just hurts like a bitch. Next, he tries to cut it off, but Talia fucking punches him before the knife even touches his skin. Fuck her too.

He settles for wrapping it in bandages so thickly that he won’t be able to see it even if he’s soaked to the bone, and when he bathes, he takes extra care to not look at his right leg. Jason doesn’t want any reminders of who he used to be, what he used to be, and he certainly doesn’t need any delusion that somebody is out there looking for him. Whatever, if they want to look for him, they can go the fuck ahead; they’ll just be disappointed. They always are.

 

* * *

 

Tim is thirteen and in the middle of training when it happens. He’s throwing a kick at Dick when the foot he has on the ground starts to burn like hell. His kick turns weak, and Dick catches his foot giving him this disappointed glare. Except it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like ‘this wouldn’t happen with Jason’, and Tim knows it wouldn’t.

He stops his training for a second, tries not to be too disappointed in himself, and peels his pant-leg up, making sure Dick can’t see his tattoo.

“What’s wrong Tim?” he asks, looking over, and Tim just barely manages to cover up the ‘R’ just above his ankle. It only takes a bit more than the palm of his hand to cover the mark, and that’s how Tim feels the heat of his skin. It hurts, like he’s being burnt, but Tim doesn’t know how, and if it’s something dealing with his tattoo, then he doesn’t want to know.

He has no time to deal with a damn soulmate.

 

* * *

 

Jason’s nineteen now, well, eighteen if you don’t want to count the time he was dead, and he’s still fucking pissed. Of course he is! Who wouldn’t be when your plan went to shit _and_ you were replaced? That’s why Jason has a new plan; he’s going to show the replacement just exactly what Hell is.

It’s not all that easy at first, but nothing worth anything is. He has to keep a schedule, a fucking _schedule_ , of all the times and places that the replacement, Batman, and Nightwing patrol. It takes some time since he has to evade the very man who taught him evasion, but he doesn’t want the replacement to know that Jason’s coming for him until it’s too late.

 

There’re eyes on him, Tim can feel it. He thinks about telling Bruce, but then he’d probably ban Tim from patrol. Tim’ll be damned before he gives up a day of being Robin.

It keeps going like this, where there’s only what can be described as a sixth sense giving Tim the feel of something being wrong before there’s a knife pressed against his throat.

For the life of him, Tim can’t figure out how this guy got the drop on him, but there’s no time for that. The guy doesn’t want to kill him, that much Tim can figure by the way the knife is pressed to his throat just to the point of it being uncomfortable.

“Hey Replacement, you have no idea how fucking how long I’ve been waiting to actually meet,” ~~the guy~~ the Red Hood says, and Tim doesn’t know how his day can get worse.

“Jason,” he starts, but that’s all Tim can get out before the knife is getting pressed deeper into his throat, definitely drawing at least a drop of blood.

“Don’t say that fucking name,” he growls, and now Tim isn’t sure if Jason intends to kill him or not. He drags the knife across Tim’s throat, but Tim still isn’t ready to risk fighting back. Bruce had said that Jason was unstable, that the Lazarus Pit could do that to a person, so Tim is positive that fighting him won’t do any good. “Don’t think this is the end,” Jason whispers in Tim’s ear before he disappears, and Tim’s smart enough to know that following would almost certainly end in his death.

 

* * *

 

The next time it happens, Tim has a split lip, a bloody nose, and a throbbing head, but he’s still not ready to back down. He follows Jason onto to the roof, and Jason turns, smirks, and, despite the few blows Tim had landed, taunts, “still not finished Replacement, or are you just a glutton for punishment?”

“Fuck you,” Tim snarls, spitting out a little bit of blood, and apparently Jason doesn’t like disrespect -who would’ve thought?- because now he’s pulling out a gun and aiming it right at Tim’s chest, right over the Robin insignia. Except in the last second before pulling the trigger, Jason shifts his aim to the other one.

The bullet goes right above Tim’s ankle and through his leg, through his _fucking leg_. It goes through skin, muscle, and bone, and even Jason physically cringes. Except that’s a face of _actual_ pain, not just empathy or whatever, and now Jason’s falling just like Tim is. They’re both falling to the ground, clutching at their right ankle.

Tim pulls up his spandex as Jason pulls up his…whatever, and there’s an exit wound on Tim (but no entrance wound through that goddamn tattoo) but no visible sign of injury on Jason. They throw glances at each other, and it’s hard to say where the disgust ends and the surprise starts. The yellow ‘R’ in a black circle on both of their legs is clear in the Gotham city lights.

“Fuck.” It’s the only thing they’ll ever agree on.


End file.
